


This War Of Mine

by NovaIce



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Character Death, Comfort Sex, Depression, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, References to Depression, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaIce/pseuds/NovaIce
Summary: (Personal Request) When Michael DeSanta gets himself into more trouble than what it's worth- he is saved by a recluse alcoholic by the name of Sasha Reeves. Their paths have crossed. Though not favored, Michael feels more than just impulse or obligation towards his savior. Who is to say what decisions or mistakes Michael will make along the way. MichaelxOC.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This story is crossposted to give ease of access to those who have a website preference.
> 
> Please Note:  
> This story contains the dark side of abuse such as alcoholism.  
> This includes various of mental illnesses such as depression and suicide.  
> This also entails the grieving process one must experience when you lose a loved one.
> 
> If you can't handle any of these... I recommend you don't read! Thanks!

**Chapter I**

Sasha had downed at least half a bottle of whiskey while walking along the edge of Paleto Bay. Her mind had been in a state of fog for at least a few hours now. Just enough to remember the week prior. Her footprints in the sand lead to solid enough ground and to an open face of Cassidy Creek. Raton Canyon bore straight ahead. The Chiliad Mountain State Wilderness surrounding her.

Several more swigs were taken. Continuing to alter her stabilized mindset. The grip on her bottle had slipped, smashing into shards just below her feet. "Fuck." Sasha groaned to herself aloud. "That was $20 down the drain. My favorite brand too."

Stumbling to the ground, Sasha wanted nothing to do with reality while being kept grounded. Surely enough her body had built up a tolerance. Blinking, she felt the course sand between her fingertips. Her brain had been attempting to process. Moments had lingered as she brought her hand into view. A dark red liquid had stained her fingers.

Blood.

Was it her blood?

Had she been wounded?

Sasha shook her head to sober her mind. Frantically checking her body. No cuts or anything noticeable to be of greater concern. Confused, Sasha had attempted to follow the trail of red blood to its primary source. With great success her eyes had locked on target. 

A shadowed figure had been gravely wounded and washed ashore. Sasha's feet had given chase. The blood trail now growing thicker at its source. Through her sobering eye sight, Sasha had gingerly lifted the injured accomplice into her hold. Unconscious, the figure she was cradling appeared to be a middle aged figure. His blood being drained from his pale flesh. 

There had been a rough crunch under their weight. Glancing down, Sasha took notice that it had been a pair of Aviator Sunglasses. They must had been his. By how they crunched, Sasha confirmed that they were pretty much obliterated. There was no clear indication of his state. Without proper light, all she knew was that her male companion was terribly injured. Just injured enough to lose a large amount of blood.

Police sirens had broke Sasha's concentration. "Hold tight, pal. I'll be back soon enough." She spoke. slipping off her black leather jacket and attempting to camouflage his body into the given environment. "They might be after him." She concluded. "Damn. In any other situation... why did it have to be someone like him?"

Sasha gave am extended sigh as her brain fog temporarily lifted. She had a small window to take advantage of her given time. Hopefully before the previous shots of whiskey had smacked what reality she grounded herself. Dashing to her Pegassi Vacca, Sasha drove along the path to where her male companion was located.

Pulse or not, Sasha had loaded her male companion into her vehicle. Her night of drinking cut short. The universe not giving her answers otherwise. Pulling the seat-belt across his body, Sasha made her way back to snatch her leather jacket. There had been a bright, blinding light beamed directly into her face. Subconsciously, she had did her best to shield her face.

Sasha's time had reached it's limit. "Good Evening, Ma'am." An LSPD Officer announced his arrival. "May I ask your business here?"

Sasha had cold sweat forming on her face. If the officer would simply observe the area. They would take notice of the blood downstream. By the make of their police cruiser, they had come from Los Santos. Stingy bastards as they were. It was their job. So Sasha did what she did best: Lie. "Just a romantic evening, officer. Making my way home with my drunk husband. I think he drank a little too much."

The only thing she could pray for was that the officer could buy the forgery of such an improvised tale. This had to buy her time for escape. At least for a few nights if suspicion was at stake. Maybe enough for the officer to take notice of the model, make and spray of her vehicle.

Thankfully fate smiled upon her this evening. The officer had clicked off his blinding light. "I'm assuming you're okay to drive then, ma'am?"

"Nothing to worry about, officer." She responded with little slur. Thankfully this had not been her first encounter with the law.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice evening and drive safely."

"You as well, officer."

The officer in question with his partner had entered their vehicle, turned around and drove off into the distance. Sasha had taken a moment to breathe deep until her escape route had been clear. Climbing into her Pegassi, she turned her attention towards her male companion. "That was a close one, friend. Now the only question remains: Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Arriving into Paleto Bay's small town, Sasha absorbed herself back into her element. She made headway to her primary safehouse: 4401 Procopio Drive. Sasha knew it wasn't exactly home, but was a comfortable solitude. It had still been home otherwise. Pulling into her garage, Sasha unbuckled herself.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" Her voice echoing in dead air.

Climbing out of the driver side, Sasha made her way out of her garage. Early in the morning, though at the crack of dawn had just began lighting its horizon. Closing the main entrance of her garage, Sasha cleared a pathway to get her male companion to safety. Unlocking and leaving her front door open, she returned to her companion at a moment's notice.

Unbuckling her male companion, Sasha focused all of her strength into carrying a man who was obviously twice her size and weight. Making haste, she was instantly weakened getting him into her bedroom. Pushing herself and the limits harbored inside, Sasha wasted no to in giving her companion an improvised field dressing. His body being much worse than anticipated.

Sasha's male companion had several bullet holes. Entry points as to where he had been shot. All across his back left shoulder. Battered and scarred, she felt more than a strange obligation to assist this man who was now in her care. Dashing through into her small kitchen, Sasha had gathered small makeshift tools that could assist her current goal.

Breaking into her bathroom, Sasha had snatched up one of her first aid kits. "Never thought I would have to ever use this." She had commented to herself.

Hours had droned as Sasha did everything to her best knowledge regarding her companion's state. She pulled out bullets, cleaned up his wounds and wrapped his chest in her makeshift field dress bandage. Knowing it had dug into him deep, Sasha knew that all he had to deal with were scars and reminders of the recent past. It was the best she had to offer from her skills and experience. Hopefully avoiding all and any infection if at all possible.

Settling her companion to rest, Sasha's feet guided her into the messy living room owned. "Life doesn't get any better than this." Her sigh becoming distant and lost.

Sinking into her sofa, Sasha had checked her phone. Several missed calls and texts had greeted her screen. She snuffed. No one really needed her. It was them not knowing how to do their job and because of her bloodline and family... Sasha knew better. She used her left hand to toss her cell phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

Consciously snatching the same brand of whiskey she previously had, it wouldn't make up for the twenty bucks lost, but at least it was strong. Beside the bottle were prescribed medications. Given recent years, this was a new path she had been traveling. Yet in recent months the increase had no contest. Dark events shrouded her life. Ones out of her control. Yet the meds given were supposed to help. Something she had to endure until getting better.

With a few swigs, the meds had been swallowed with ease. Her right hand then reached for the TV Remote, turning on a random channel for background noise. Zoning to the comfort of such allowed her to completely embrace her solidarity lifestyle. "Not today." She mumbled to herself. "... or any other day in the near future. All I want is to be shut off to the world. I can't bare. I can't process." 

Having her continue to drink herself into the void, heavy eyelids overtook her mind. Sasha lifted her legs upon the couch she settled into. She had been drifting into that abyss. From her perspective. Sasha wanted nothing more. Disorientation had consumed her mind. Something she welcomed.

"Sasha? Sasha, hey. Why haven't you answered your phone?" That had been a voice from the recent past.

"Forgive me, Marcello I just need time. Lance. I can't even process any of that. He was more than just a family friend, but a wonderful man I've known for over twenty years. What upsets me is that he didn't even-"

"Sasha. I know in my heart Lance had every greater intention not to tell you. Try not to be so upset. More than likely he had tried all he could to protect you. Even in the event of his death. Not talking about his illness-"

"Anyone else would declare it was selfish! Quite frankly I agree with them!"

"You've known the man all your life and this is how you judge him? Twenty years has you judge what is right? All I'm hearing is that you're allowing it to tear you on the inside."

Yet, by every pretense, it already had. Just another painful unsolved mystery added to her list she labeled experiences. The therapist in her perspective assigned to her was the easiest case. More so fattening the pockets of the greedy. For all the time in the world, Sasha fought all she could to keep hidden from the world.

Perhaps doping herself up and combining alcohol wasn't the greatest idea conceived. Sasha tackled her best to assure all that she was going through was all temporary. That line had been crossed awhile ago. It wasn't addiction in her mind. In her mind and since childhood there had been a delayed process when it resulted in trauma. The best she could do is close the world out around her.

Sasha hid away from the world, often enjoying the solitude. It's how she knew how to cope. Something her entire family and friends hated about her. Though preferable by her own standards. Isolation had been more than a routine. It had been her lifestyle. Knowing all of this, perhaps made her a hypocrite. Mainly because with the right person in mind their company was appreciated.

Not many friends survived her or her "attitude". Sasha herself could just confirm that she was a very emotional and passionate woman. Especially when it came down to drive, conditions and the overall goal of certain situations. This was just who she was... if people didn't like her it that wasn't her problem.

Memories of Lance echoed in her mind. When it came to her own well being Lance had been one of the rare ones in her life. Like a favored uncle, Lance was always one to protect Sasha. Putting her needs before his own. Love had no bounds wit them. It was those cherish memories that tears formed on Sasha's face. The tear had automatically streamed down her face, making her face red in the process.

Lance's death had been so sudden. The last time she saw him he appeared fine. Lance even smiled through their most recent meeting. All the pain she had been enduring wasn't the fact he didn't tell her didn't weigh on her mind. It was that she couldn't thank him for all he had done for her in the past two years.

"Not today." She repeated through her sobbing. "... or any other day in the near future. All I want is to be shut off to the world. I can't bare. I can't process." There had been a part of her that sought a response, but all that echoed back was silence. The whiskey that fogged her mind had robbed her remaining thoughts. Sasha's left hand that held her whiskey glass loosened its grip. "There's nothing I can do to bring you back."

* * *

Michael had towered over his savior. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Suspension of disbelief had engorged his senses. "So it ends up being a deadbeat drunk that ended up saving my ass."

Within Sasha's deep slumber, Michael lingered on her details. Giving careful consideration for his female caretaker, his hands snatched up the bottle of whiskey and her glass. Checking if there had been any left, he placed them on the coffee table in front of her. Empty glass and a quarter of whiskey left, Michael felt sympathy. "Sorry, kid. I really wish we were meeting under better, even different circumstances."

Retreating back into her bedroom to retrieve his shirt. He stalled his thoughts for just a moment. "Perhaps it would have been better not to have met you at all." Michael dashed his way through the entryway of Sasha's home. Being frozen as he had glanced back towards her unconscious body once more.

Michael DeSanta knew he was free to leave, but the first wave of guilt had questioned his clear judgement. From an outside perspective Michael wasn't obligated to return the favor. Pure luck had assured his survival. Even if a drunk bastard had to assure of his life. In a reflex reaction, Michael had slammed his forehead against the wood of the door.

Several possibilities had still gripped his judgement. More so now screaming what the right decisions he needed to make. Michael knew that it was a choice not associate with people like her. She could be more a liability. "This woman doesn't know me. As grateful as I am that she found me. It's best for her and myself that I leave. I just drive myself home. I never existed." Michael continued to question his morality.

Glancing to his right, he saw Sasha's Pegassi Keys. Snatching her keys, Michael had bolted out the door. Seeing her car hadn't been parked inside, he knew that her car had to be in the garage. Luckily for him that in her drunken state the door remained unlocked. Entering her vehicle, Michael had checked around for anything of greater use. Cash more specifically. 

Checking the sun visor, a photograph had dropped into his lap. Michael glanced at the photo. His view continued to switch from the photo to the rear view mirror. It took time to notice how much of a rough shape his body appeared. Scuffs, bruises and cuts. His chest wrapped in a breathable wrap. Enough to assure the bullet wounds he received wouldn't infect his body or at least delayed it until he got proper medical attention.

Michael examined the photograph once more taking notice that the people in the photo had been of his caretaker and another person he couldn't label. Had she been married? It was hard to say. Sasha had been smiling, wrapped in warm with someone who she held close to her heart. "By the looks of it, she had to be married." Michael scoffed at his commentary, shoving the photograph back into the sun visor.

Taking a deep breath, Michael had stared back into the rear view mirror. "Fuck." He spoke aloud, knowing all of this had just bee wrong. "FUCK!" He raged a little louder, gripping his steering wheel, continuing to slam both of his hands into the wheel. The car itself honking back in short bursts through his anger. "Damn it. Damn it.... DAMN IT!!!"

Through confirmed morality, Michael slipped his shirt back over his body. Existing the Pegassi and reentering Sasha's home. Sneaking back through the entry way, Michael rejoined his caretaker, taking the glass she had been downing whiskey through. Bottle included. Sitting in a nearby lounge chair. Michael poured himself the last drops of the whiskey. "Fuck, kid. You owe me one." Having drank whatever hard liquor contents.

Michael sat in that chair. Knowing well that this was going to be one of the worst decisions made in his lifespan while still breathing.


	2. Chapter II

Sasha attempted to shift herself awake knowing well what took place a night before. Another night that had faded and one she would soon forget. Her senses shifting back into reality focused into the sounds of running water from her kitchen sink. Sasha's groggy state had consumed her. "Classic hangover." She muttered to herself, placing her right hand on her throbbing migraine.

Time slowly passing, there had been a sudden jolt to her senses. There had been a texture of a cold, damp rag brushed against her forehead. Opening her eyes, she had taken notice that it was the man just the night prior that was fully conscious and tending at her side. "Take it easy, kid. I'm not too unfamiliar how the night after a long night of drinking. Especially when you overdo yourself."

Sasha had remained quiet, observing Michael's actions. "You... You're?"

"DeSanta. Michael DeSanta." Michael introduced himself, dampening her neck and face.

Sasha exhaled a deep breath. "Sasha." She spoke back.

"Do you have a last name?" Michael questioned, staring into her eyes.

Hesitation had been clear with her. Tensions were high for the moment. Enough to cut through butter. "Reeves. My name is Sasha Reeves." Pain throbbed, reminding her that what she was experiencing wasn't a dream. "Damn... my head."

"Anticipation is the name of the game. I've brewed some coffee. Aspirin for your hangover waits just on your kitchen table."

"Thank you, Mr. DeSanta."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, now. You are the one who saved me from my future imprisonment. As many times as I have been in jail. Lost count."

"Yes. I found you down stream. Cassidy Creek. I still remember that detail. You were bleeding out. Shot in your back left shoulder. Even had the attention of the Los Santos Police Squad. Anything you're willing to share in that regard?"

Michael joined her at the kitchen table. Pouring the both of them some coffee. "Not exactly. I was dragged back into a lifestyle I thought I ran from over a decade ago. I was enjoying my retirement."

Sasha reacted within means, nodding her head. "Somehow I oddly relate to your internal struggles. Trying to run away only to become the only person who is called upon to get the job done. And done right."

Michael leaned back in his chair, chin up at her grievances. "Let me guess... In your drunken and hung over state... I'm guessing an Old Boss or Boyfriend? One of them got under your skin?"

Sasha made a face in return. "I wish everything were that simple." Her eyes met Michael's gaze. "I lost a dear friend. He was more than just a friend. He's been in the family ever since I was younger. There's nothing twenty years can make me forget. Everything around me became overwhelming. So I did what I did best. I sought Sanctuary. I escaped into solitude so that I might recover."

"Strange that you would find what you label Sanctuary in Paleto Bay. So you work in The City? Los Santos, I mean." Michael wanted to assure he was asking the right questions.

Sasha caught his pattern. "What's your next question, then? That I'm married, Mr. DeSanta?"

"Smart kid." Michael chuckled in response. "All right. Are you married?"

"Look, you're free to recover here for as long as you see fit. Perhaps when you want to visit. Be thankful that I offer shelter. Don't be so understanding when I don't talk about my life story. You know enough."

What bothered Michael was that this random stranger allowed him to exist in the same space she did had. If he was to find out more about her. Stepping on egg shells was perhaps putting it lightly. So Michael played along. Rubbing his neck as awkward silence. The back of his mind didn't seem to complain. At least the coffee was good.

Michael broke the silence, reaching for her hand. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Really. If it weren't for you... I would have been in jail or worse. Dead."

"Where do we go from here?" Sasha inquired. "Have you lost anything since I located you?"

Subconsciously, Michael had sat up straight, recalling anything important he might had lost on his person. "Yeah when I crashed into the waterfall I must have lost my smart phone and wallet. What luck."

"Then I suggest you start there. For now my hungover self needs food. There's a wonderful cafe and bakery on the corner that has scones to die for." Sasha stood up, snatching a leather jacket as she walked towards the entryway.

"Wouldn't it be best to change your clothes. Maybe brush your hair?"

"Don't stress, Michael. I may be hungover, but I know the Manager. Adam. Do you think I'm the first hungover bastard who walked into his bakery early hours of the morning hungover or drunk?" There had been a snide remark from Sasha.

There had been a hairbrush and hair tie on the table to Sasha's left. She wasted no time quickly brushing and pulling back her hair. "Makeup not your thing?" Michael observed.

"Are you kidding? Do I look like a cheerleader?"

The unwelcome image had entered Michael's head as soon as it left. "So you say that the Manager Adam is used to people like us?"

"People like us? You're an alcoholic too?" Sasha shrugged off his question. "Okay. People like us. Adam sympathizes with people in town because most of Paleto Bay, Hen House included carry hard liquor. Just as long as we're civil. He'll feed us. Especially after a long night drinking, hangovers or two days after."

"All right. Whatever you say, kid."

The bright sun had temporarily blinded Sasha as Michael became a shadow shield. Sasha took lead. Walking alongside her companion down the block. Passed the Hen House Nightclub and to the Bakery on the corner. "The place we're traveling towards is called Golden Buns. I can still remember the first time I wandered into the cafe hungover. No questions were asked and Adam took care of my basic needs. It's even better as a cafe. They have great scones!"

Michael could recolonize small bits of enthusiasm. He wondered how Sasha was sober. Perhaps if she had bounced back a little since her heavy drinking last night. There would be time to discuss interests. Eating would make the both of them functional. As they had strolled street-side, Michael slowed his pace knowing that Sasha's short legs wouldn't keep up with him.

Perhaps Michael was overthinking Sasha's personality. As much as there had been a barrier or wall in her heart. With more time he assured himself that she would explain more when the time came. It wasn't his position if she didn't speak of her past. Sasha gave enough detail and Michael showed respect for her actions.

Arrival upon the street corner that housed the cafe, Michael picked up his speed, opening the door for Sasha to step ahead of him. "Ladies first." He motioned.

For once Sasha appeared to have given a genuine smile. "Thank you."

An arrangement of smells greeted Michael's savory senses. The smell of baked breads, doughnuts and freshly baked pies filled the air. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had something home-baked or homemade for that matter. Sasha lead Michael to a booth. More likely one she was used to inhabiting. The staff were ecstatic seeing Sasha as she knew how to wear her mask to the outside world quite well.

Though unusual, maybe it was her method of keeping secrets. That even when she had been down. She placed double effort into having people not see the darkness she had been fighting. "They must have some wonderful menu items. I wonder what's the better of the two evils?" His question giving a glance from Sasha.

Sasha's snark like attitude surfaced once more. "It's all for the scones, Mr. DeSanta. It's all about the scones."

"All sunshine and rainbows aside, Sasha. I don't get saved by a random stranger. None the less a..." Michael stalled. "... Well a drunkard such as yourself. So I have to ask. Why is it that you feel the need to heavily drink and get drunk?"

"My personal life isn't of your concern, Michael. I told you what you wanted to hear. There's nothing more to share. You dig?"

Michael slouched back a little hearing Sasha being a little defensive. "Bullshit, Sasha. Someone like you wouldn't have saved my ass. Hangovers aside. My conclusion keeps reaching a deep-seeded past. Maybe something recent. I've seen the prescription bottles. You aren't living. You're suffering. My obligation is that I repay you how I see fit. No matter how much you might deny, kick or scream. The least explanation you can give me is a name. An event. Something that caused you to fall down the rabbit hole of darkness."

Sasha took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly. "That would mean we would have to be more involved, Michael. Are you sure you want to be chasing me down that rabbit hole?"

"Look at what I've endured, kid. I wouldn't have been a free man or alive if it wasn't for your meddling." Michael repeated his answer from earlier. "The least you can tell me is about your awkward strange of impulse and kindness."

"A close friend of mine-"

"I need a name."

"Why does it matter?"

"Why are you deflecting?"

"His name was Lance. A family friend, more of an uncle towards me while growing up. I knew him for just over two decades."

Michael had seemed to phase passed the first barrier. "Now we're getting somewhere. I promise you that I won't be stepping on any toes. You detail that you two were close. Were Lance and you... married?"

"Why are you so persistent?"

"What? I'm allowed to answer your questions, but when it comes down to your own personal life suddenly it's all too much? Give me a break!"

Sasha had been distasteful. "Fine, Mr. DeSanta." Her breath had huffed. She had been holding back tears. "My answer is 'NO', Mr. DeSanta. We were close. It's just how my primary family has always worked. We keep those we care for close. It might be a little old fashion, but we need to take care of one another. It's a motto My Father, My Grandfather and Great Grandfather carried. Family takes care of family. Blood or not."

"You have my condolences, Ms. Reeves." Emotions at a high tension once more. Michael felt it was the best to sympathize with her. "There is a question that remains with you, however. Something that arises more concern. You claim to have family values, but fled just as soon as things got complicated."

"The day Lance died. All of it just became overwhelming. I respect and love my family dearly, but I deal most of what happens alone. I prefer to live a solitary life because it gives me time to think. Thus why I am well known here in Paleto Bay. The community here has an understanding that the people in Los Santos never have. We keep to ourselves. We don't question our private lives. Outside of Los Santos. Those who live here in Paleto Bay see this town as a safe haven."

"So what you're saying is that alcohol has never been a consistent problem with you?"

"You're a drinker yourself, Mr. DeSanta. You of all people should be familiar with the grieving process."

"Please, Sasha. I don't take formalities well. Just call me Michael." As a small gesture, Michael grasped Sasha's freehand. "I would offer you my number. Being a voice of reason. That's just not a possibility at the moment. Just remember to keep everything in moderation. Even my own family loves to torment me regarding "moderation". I call it nagging."

Sasha smiled at Michael's sense of humor. "Don't worry. After we eat we can go and locate your phone. I'm not sure if we'll find it, but it doesn't mean we can't try."

With that statement there had been something Michael admired in Sasha. She may have been in a difficult position, but she was still fighting. She wasn't depending on her medications as a crutch, but something to help her fight against the darkness she had wondering for however long. 

The scone Sasha had promised was astounding by any given standard. Emotions aside, Michael found himself enjoying a little bit of Sasha's company. Even as she had recovered slowly from her drunken hangover. There had been a certain charm to her personality had that not many her age had in modern times. Where others were lost in their phones, Sasha had been serious about her statement on closing off the world. There had been something to learn from her after all.

There had been peace and quiet the walk back to her place. So another questioned lingered. "So what do you like about calling Paleto Bay your home?" Sasha considered that question, taking his left wrist and leading him across the street from her home. The answer was within beauty of itself. The ocean waves crashing upon the beach's shore Michael noticed through awe and astonishment.

"I never showed you the best part." Sasha emphasized with joy. Starring Oceanside with Michael. "Peace, quiet and just across the street I have access to a somewhat private beach. Many love Los Santos, but the alluring stillness, sounds and ocean waves of this place. Eventually you never want to leave."

"Truly a beautiful sight. Thank you for breakfast, Sasha." Was all Michael to speak back towards in gratitude.

"You're welcome, Michael. Remember. If you ever need a Place of Sanctuary. You're always welcome here. My offer still stands." Sasha's hazel eyes locking with Michael's gaze once more.

Michael gently brushed Sasha's dark brown hair out of her eyes, smiling. There had been a part of him that sympathized with her. Multiple traits he could relate and endure. Through her eyes, Michael could see her true nature. The sun illuminating a brighter side of her personality just off the reflection of her hair.

Placing his right arm around her, Michael drew her close as they spent a short amount of time overlooking the ocean and enjoying each other's company. There had been no yelling from his family. The strain of his marriage on his shoulders. Just the peace and quiet of a town he often drove passed without giving it another thought.

Yet just for today. Michael DeSanta could feel himself relax.


	3. Chapter III

Sasha and Michael found themselves on the road traveling down to where they had first encountered each other: Cassidy Creek. They had piled in her Pegassi Vacca. Knowing well the drive with be a considerable distance. With the modified Pegassi, reaching their destination wouldn't be a problem.

"I need to mention that this is a nice Pegassi, Sasha. I'm sure this Vacca was expensive."

"This was a gift from Lance when I turned twenty. Almost a decade ago now. Lance was so excited that he was more than eager to modify it. Upkeep I'm sure is just as expensive as the base pay for an average Pegassi."

"So you've been a soiled brat all your life then?'

Michael's question made Sasha crack up. "Don't you wish! I may come from a complicated family history, but it doesn't mean I can't fend for myself. If that were the case I'm sure I wouldn't have an escape such as Paleto Bay. My family keeps everything in the family. Family Traditions. Especially more so knowing what my Grandfather did in the 80s."

"Your Grandfather must have had one hell of a reputation." Michael was quick to comment.

"Yeah. A grand amount of a reputation and power." There had been a hint for sarcasm in her voice. "While most of us still work. He's down in Vice City enjoying his retirement on his million dollar yacht."

"Your Grandfather is living a dream I once wanted."

"Retirement wasn't for you, then? Given how you carry yourself... I would have guessed you weren't too far behind." Sasha joked. "During my Grandfather's Younger Days he got himself into more trouble than what it was worth. As he got older, some of his more defined personality traits had stayed. Yet as he aged, he mellowed out. Gangs, Family Business. Anything you would assume he had... I'm sure he could have bought."

"Family Affairs will always be complicated."

"So what's your family matters, Mr. DeSanta?"

"Complicated. How about yours?"

Sasha grew visibly stressed knowing well that she was disconnected with her family down in Paleto Bay. Her expression wasn't of anger or hate. It had been of worry. "Unlike most of my family members... I carry a lot of weight, Michael. Weight upon my shoulders that isn't even mine. Just with my family name alone. Another reason that when I do hide. I do my best to not be followed."

Michael didn't have exact words to comfort her overall state of mind. Yet there had been a few choice words his mind had caught through pattern. "Are you really hiding, Sasha? Hiding from the world as you say you might? Perhaps you're running and don't even know." His statement being genuine enough for her to absorb his words.

Pulling down the path where she had first found Michael. They had arrived in a decent amount of time. Sasha had unbuckled herself, wanting to shy away from Michael's question that lingered. She knew Michael knew better. "If I answer. I know not of your reaction, Michael. I know you're trying to understand my situation and I respect that. I know that you want to pay me back dare I entertain myself the thought it might be a little more..."

"You save my life. You gave me Sanctuary. Naturally I do feel obligated to repay the favor. That isn't a strange notion between the both of us. I just have a feeling I won't see you again knowing I could have done something to assist your own battles against the darkness."

"I won't deny your concerns, Michael. Nor will I ignore your gesture of repayment you feel obligated, but trust me. I'm a nobody. Even if I am on this edge. Battling my mental illnesses isn't anything new. Nor am I designed to be a burden on someone like you. I am still much in my head and responsible for myself."

"Kid. I'm going to ask you to spare me the details of your ramblings and get to the source. You are too hung in the past. This darkness that you fight. Dark thoughts included. Are these the reasons behind your increased drinking? Losing a family friend... or in your case Lance wouldn't cause the increase. It just gave you an excuse to keep adding to the problem."

"Mental Illnesses. Something severe as mine are often ignored as cries for attention. Then they tell you to stop acting out or you get strongly lectured on how 'easy' it is to get out of a state of mind. Driving you further and further darkness..."

"I see it from you. You know you have a problem. You put on a mask to hide how you truly are. Because something might have happened to where no one took you seriously then others around you don't think it's a form of abuse."

"Suicidal Thoughts are a mental illness, Michael. Even when some people use it for other devious means. I've been battling it more so in recent years. I've had it all my life, but it increased the more I was shut down. I have a therapist. My life is falling apart. Trust me when I say I want nothing to deal about my past and do my best to press forward. It's just been difficult. I don't think I would be here today if I wanted to give up. That's my motto anyway."

Michael gave a sigh, fearing how similar his feeling were, but had to be the stronger man under this circumstance. "What if I told you that I wasn't too far behind? That my wife and I constantly argue? That my kids. Especially my son causes me more of a headache that I want to deal with? There are days I'm firmly convinced that my family hates me."

His voice may have trailed, but Sasha had been still listening. Swift action pulled Michael into her embrace. "I don't know if you believe in fate. Coincidence, perhaps. However I am going to insist that people meet for a reason. Don't think that you being here hasn't made an impact on me or in your case when you depart we won't see each other again. We are the ones to change our paths with just one choice. One decision to knock on someone's door."

It was within her own words. Michael connected how he could repay Sasha. Something he knew that it could be more impactful. "You might have just convinced me... But I'll tell you what, kid. How about I check in with you and visit you every now and again? Not just out of getting myself in trouble with the law? Because I already have a feeling that alone will have a common occurrence between us." There had been sarcasm behind some of his statement. Yet enough to make Sasha smile.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Michael. Thank you. My offer of keeping Sanctuary when needed still stands. Don't forget that." Sasha ended their conversation there. Climbing out of her Pegassi. "Now. Let's see if we can find your items and send you on your way back into the chaotic world you call home."

Michael had followed suit exiting the Pegassi watching as Sasha opened up a secret compartment of storage in the back of her car. Inside had a spare handgun, a couple other necessities and what he saw as a spare emergency flashlight. Sasha reached for her flashlight, checking if the batteries were fresh. Blinding herself in the process.

Clicking off her flashlight to assure she wouldn't do the same to Michael, Sasha pointed in the general area where Michael had been originally located. "As you already know. I found you along the mouth of the creek. Not quite something that would meet alongside the ocean-"

Michael hadn't completely ignored her explanation, but was quick to grab Sasha's smart phone that was in her back pocket. "You shouldn't do that to your phone you know. You could end up destroying an essential device." Then going through her phone to switch on the built in flashlight on her phone.

Sasha's thoughts were out of that range entirely. "What is your deal?" She almost yelled in response.

"I'm on the same note as you are, darling. I'm just pitching in to find my items. What do you expect me to do? Sit on my hands? I don't think so. Not one bit." Sasha had huffed in response. Walking down closer to the river.

"You know!" She yelled back at him. "If I didn't think you were reaching my phone I would have called sexual harassment on your ass! Don't be doing that around me, damn it!"

Michael laughed. Disregarding her anger. "You would think that if when inventing such an innovative device such as the smart phone... they would have made them waterproof from the get go, right? Guess that's too futuristic for them." In return sharing a laugh soon after with Sasha. Making the miscommunication a slight moment of grace.

* * *

It had taken hours before there had been success at finding Michael's Belongings. The phone seemed to endure than Michael did. Being water damaged and a little cracked. While his wallet had been completely drowned. From afar, he glanced up at where he had been shot. Remembering how LSPD gave chase just as reluctantly.

Michael could still feel the sharp pain of being clipped and snipped in the back of his left shoulder. Having failed to dive safely into Cassidy Creek. Michael had failed to dive off the Alamo Railway Bridge into the shallow waters of the creek and its fall. The random encounter that would have the chance meeting at meeting Sasha.

Attention was called away from the recent days, now glancing back at Sasha whom had collapsed into the cold water below her. "God damn it!" She shouted. Groaning in self defeat.

Michael had hiked back over to Sasha who had sat in the water in exhaustion. "I found my phone and wallet. Come on. Let's get back to your place. Here-" He reached out a hand to help Sasha. "-allow me to help you out."

"It's all right, thanks. I was just... I was just a little clumsy." Denying his offer as she fell backwards into the water a second time. Now visibly frustrated. Michael forced himself to assist Sasha. Regardless of her attitude. "You didn't have to... Thanks."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Sasha. It doesn't hurt to ask for a little help every now and again." Michael guiding Sasha to dry land once more. "With this out of the way. One question remains, Ms. Reeves. Am I staying another night with you or do we depart from now?" Sasha had locked eyes with Michael. "I'm still insisting we head to dinner. I'm also leaning into the direction I stay another night before I travel back into the chaotic world."

"Well if you want that. The Hen House is just around the corner from where I live-"

"Would it be too much to ask that I see the sober side of you, Sasha?"

Though stubborn, Sasha committed to Michael's request. "All right. There are some pretty good burgers at Jared's Famous Burgers just in-town. Across the street in a place called The Mojito Inn. That way we can enjoy each other's company if you want to take that route. Maybe that will suit more of your style?"

"That sounds decent enough." Michael agreed as they accompanied each other into Sasha's Pegassi. He had even gave Sasha her own smart phone back given the courtesy at not blinding her with her own flashlight app. "I also insist that when we get back to your place and freshen ourselves up a little. I don't think you want to be sitting in wet clothes." Again he had been a bit of a jokester through his sarcasm.

Sasha in this result had felt better through his intensive. "All right, Mr. DeSanta. You win this round. Don't get too far ahead of yourself."

The afternoon had been decent enough as the both of them. As Sasha retried to her master bedroom to get into something more decent than her typical messy self. Perhaps through Michael's logic she understood where he had his concerns. Outside of her goals, Michael took a moment to walk down to a discount clothing store to buy a better shirt to accommodate.

Their advantage was that they didn't have to dress fancy. Something that had been casual. It was just the both of them enjoying an outing. It had just been the both of them to hopefully get to know one another better. "Now ain't that interesting?"

Michael had chuckled knowing where they had been approaching. "What is, Michael?"

"Something as off kilter as a 'Famous Burger' being offered in a cafe inside an Inn. They must be pretty good as your scones."

"Hidden in plain sight. Just as much as anyone else here in Paleto Bay."

"You've been here long enough to figure that out?"

"As long as I disconnect myself from my family, of course. As I mentioned before. That most the time it's peaceful here. Everyone keeps to themselves and no one asks questions. It alters your perception and settles you outside of the world. Before you know it..." Michael had stalled. Staring back at his companion. "Before you know it you don't want to go back to Los Santos. Because in time you prefer the silence and solidarity lifestyle. This doubles if you grew up in a family such as mine."

"So is that why you created your place of Sanctuary and offer it to others?"

"I'm not running, Mr. DeSanta. No matter how you might perceive it from the outside. The echoes of your past will always follow you. It's not that I don't want to commit to my family. Everyone could use a break from the world every now and again. Even if some prefer longer periods of solitude than others."


	4. Chapter IV

Just as soon as Michael had been accommodated in Sasha's Bedroom for the night. Sasha herself had retreated into her Living Room. Where her favored couch awaited her. There sat upon the coffee table was a new liquor bottle of hard whiskey she had hidden away for the evening. Breaking its seal, Sasha took a swig.

Snatching her phone off her kitchen counter, seeing if anyone had texted or called her while disconnected with Michael. Several more missed calls, a voicemail and a text lit up on her screen. All left by Marcello. "Hey there, baby sister. The family is worried about you. As usual. Checking in to see if you're well. Grandfather noted that when things get rough and you need time to think you have a tendency to drop off the map and reappear when you're capable of having your thoughts. Be safe, won't you? Update us soon."

"I would never abandon the family name, Marcello. Just give me a few days. No one in our family never understood my passion and love for Lance. I know my loyalty has been questioned, but I just need time." Sasha texted back, placing her phone next to Michael's. Something that had her double take. "Did you leave it here? I thought you would have wanted someway to repair your phone. I suppose not."

With all things considered, Sasha knew that down in her heart and somber thoughts Lance wouldn't allow her to live anything down. That even with his passing. She would return to her family and life would move on. "Take all the time and space you need in the world." Lance would remind her. "You don't quit on family."

There had been another swig taken from the whiskey bottle. Sasha was praying that it would hit her hard. Anything to drown out Lance's Voice from her recent memory. "Fuck." She muttered to herself repeating until she found herself snug on her living room sofa. What if Michael wasn't a part of this equation? Would she have ran? It was hard to say. The path would gain her nothing to walk alone. Yet here she was with a stranger she hardly knew.

Perhaps Sasha wasn't as alone as she wanted to convince herself. Fighting in an abyss with no solid ground. She could have been falling forever. Would it have mattered then?

"What did I just tell you about moderation?" There had been a strange delay on Sasha's part. No concept of time swept passed. All she could tell was that someone had been sitting on the coffee table in front of her. That someone being Michael. It didn't take her long to reach such a drunken state.

As Sasha was going for another swig, Michael had stopped her. She aggressively wanted to shove him from taking a source of comfort away from her. "I thought we had an agreement that my place would be one of Sanctuary, Mr. DeSanta. Not of judgement."

"You're not of any use to me dead, kid." Michael answered, placing the whiskey bottle behind the coffee table and out of Sasha's arms reach. "You might not agree with the sheer concept of death, but alcohol isn't helping your circumstance by a long shot. You might as well be killing yourself. Which you are by using substances that are within your control."

"You're not my life coach, Michael. I didn't ask for your advice how to grieve."

"You want to do this the hard way?" Michael asked with a snarky tone. "All right. Fine. Let's do this the hard way." Sasha's face was brought into view as they had made eye contact. "I may not be your life coach. I'm fair enough to call myself some schmuck off the shore you randomly encountered-" There had been a strain of worry before Michael's eyes. "-but as your friend. The life of someone you saved in a state of need... I would even agree with you by understand the want to drink..."

"Michael-"

"However if you don't moderate what is within your control you could end up dead."

"Funny that you lecture me knowing well how much you drink yourself."

Michael threw a comeback at her. "I still have more self control than you. Seeing you like this. Knowing you want to continue convincing yourself that you're alone. That as you drop further into that darkness. It's a reminder to me that even if by chance it's good to have people interfere-"

"Really, Michael?"

"Sasha. It's true that sometimes family or others interfering into our lives can be a bit extreme or controlling in some aspects. People nagging one another doesn't help our situation when we believe we're lost in that abyss. It's true that unless they don't experience it themselves- they will never grasp the concept why you would want to forget."

"Is there a point to this lecture, Michael?"

Michael cupped her face in the palm of his hand. "When in a state of need or desperation... Substances such as drugs and alcohol can end up being our own demise. I am also willing enough to understand your mental illnesses to an extent. However if you ever feel the need to use more of an external substance to worsen the process. You become the problem. Not the solution. Unfortunately in your circumstance it only took the events of losing someone as dear to you as Lance for you to snap. You shouldn't have to feed into that misery."

Tears swelled up into Sasha's eyes as she gripped both of her hands on Michael's right wrist. "I'm not detached from the world completely, Michael. I have family that care for me. I just prefer the lifestyle of an introvert. I can get through this alone. Everything is within my self control. There isn't anything to worry about."

"Bullshit, Sasha." Michael spat out at her. Calling her out on her self abuse. "You're trying to drink yourself into an illusion that isn't there. In the morning all you'll receive is a hangover. Something even I have regretted the next morning because I was better off talking to someone. I've walled myself enough to those around me. Even my own family. You think this is all unknown territory?"

"What if I don't want to remember? I know that this too shall pass. I just..."

Michael began stroking Sasha's hair with his left hand, giving her a small amount of reassuring comfort. "I know, sweetheart. Someday we all die. That's just a fact today. Don't make it a regret towards others tomorrow. Life is unfair when it comes to situations out of our control. That's why it's important to handle what we can control. It's what we can do as a human race. It's what we can teach to future generations so that we survive."

Sasha had crumbled with her fogged sight. "I'm so scared, Michael. I'm afraid of being alone. Lance was the only one in my family who didn't judge me in the end. I owe me world to a man who didn't even tell me of his cancer. All the while my family believed it to be the most selfish final motive he could have pulled. When he died. A part of me might as well died with him in the end."

Michael had drew Sasha closer, kissing her forehead. "Let me assure you that Lance would be devastated to see you in this state. I may not know much, but I know enough to say that no one you love would want to see you grieving in a state where you shouldn't be left alone."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

Sasha's question had Michael process with a clear head what steps needed to be taken. "Stay here. Not like you're going anywhere, but I'll be right back."

Michael had disappeared into Sasha's bedroom. Emerging into the living room where Sasha blatantly couldn't think for herself. He had wrapped the blanket around her. Confusing had entered Sasha's vulnerable state. Michael had moved his right leg around Sasha as he motioned for her to lay down with him.

Easing her into him, Michael had snuggled Sasha into his embrace. "It's okay. Try and breath. Get some rest if you can. Keep talking to me. Anything to make yourself feel better. I'm still here until morning. Remember?"

"You don't even know Lance. Why would it matter to you?"

"I didn't ask for your attitude, Sasha. I want you to know you're not alone in this battle. You don't have to be alone in this battle. I'm here."

Sasha had did what Michael had instructed. Talking to him while he listened into the later hours of the night. Nothing could tell if Lance rivaled his own experience through life, but if Michael himself had to guess who Lance was... he sounded more akin to a police officer. Always doing what's righteous against the cruel of this world. Those minutes became hours. Ones that had Sasha drift off into a deep slumber.

With Michael assuring that Sasha had been asleep by the time he moved, his right hand reached for the light source behind him. Clicking off the light as darkness swallowed them whole. Just for tonight, Michael didn't abandon Sasha to sneak back into her bedroom to rest alone. His breathing turned into a drawn out yawn. As he too drifted into an unconscious state of mind. For now, Michael's presence was enough for Sasha. That's all that mattered.

* * *

There had been an abrupt ray of sunshine that rudely blinded Michael's sight. He had grumbled, feeling Sasha just below him. She had been snoring slightly in his arms. This made him smile, yet knowing it had it be short lived. Michael took a deep breath, having air enter his lungs. He had stroked Sasha's hair, processing what needed to be done. Shifting from his spot under Sasha, he carefully placed her unconscious body in his spot.

Stretching, Michael made his way to his dead phone. There had been a sigh of disappointment. His phone was dead. Of course. It must have been a subconscious motive to check who might had attempted communication since his disappearance a few days prior. Sasha's own phone had caught his attention. Hers still functioned.

Though Sasha's phone had a low battery, Michael had plugged it into the nearby outlet. As her screen had lit up confirming its charge. Something had caught Michael's attention. A text from someone named Marcello. "I'll check in on you in a few days, then little sister. You also received a phone call from Grandfather. He wants you to call him when you have the chance. Don't be a stranger now, you hear? ~Marcello".

Michael had greatly considered prying into Sasha's Family Life, but he had not interest in draining his energy to frantic members of her family that would ask the same questions. His mind knew that he needed to be more significant.

Opening Sasha's Phone Contacts, he found her primary phone number and other smaller details listed. Memorizing her phone number, Michael had dug around her kitchen. Locating a typical pad and pen to write, he jotted down Sasha's Number and stuffed it into his left shirt pocket. Technically it wasn't prying to a degree seeing that Sasha allowed Michael into her place of Sanctuary.

Glancing back at his passed out companion. Michael knew well there wouldn't be a time frame of her waking upon his departure. So another game plan came to mind as he considered it hitting two birds with one stone.

Tearing off an extra page to the writing pad, Michael had almost bolted out the door only to return by Sasha's side. Kneeling over, Michael had kissed her left temple as she had shifted in her sleep. "I'll be back soon. I promise." He whispered, getting back to his feet. Soon after snatching his dead phone.

Stealthy departing Sasha's home, hustling back down to Golden Buns Cafe. Michael had been confident enough that they would allow him to use their phone. The staff there were already familiar with him, after all.

Upon entering the cafe and bakery, one of the waitresses wished him a good morning as she approached him to take his order. Michael considered all what needed to be accomplished. "Hi there, Good Morning." He greeted back.

"Is there anything I can get for you this morning, sir?" His waitress asked.

"A few things. You see..." Michael had showed his dead phone. "I'm trying to call a cab. Can I use your phone?"

"Oh! Yes. Certainly-"

"-And... I would like to order a couple of your pumpkin scones. You deliver, right?"

The waitress took out her pad to write out Michael's Order. "What can I help you out with?"

"I would like to make a morning delivery for one of the pumpkin scones to a friend of mine at 4401 Procopio Drive. There's also going to be a note to be enclosed with it... if that's all right."

"Not a problem. It will be extra charge."

"Sure. Thanks." Michael's waitress had disappeared behind the counter to reappear with a landline wireless phone for him to use. Trying to recall from a haze, Michael had dialed the Downtown Cab Company. Lucky for him, they answered promptly. "Hey, yes. Can you send a cab to Golden Buns Bakery in Paleto Bay?"

"We'll be there shortly, sir. Thanks for your call."

Michael had hung up, placing the landline phone on the other edge of the bakery counter as he focused in on writing Sasha a note. He stole one of the notes at the register, scratching away on the paper about how he had to leave. Though filled with remorse. He had to let others know he was alive and well. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

Folding the note, Michael had placed it with the pumpkin scone Sasha originally introduced this small delight. It wasn't only a return for such a discovery, but his own gesture to thank her for now. His mind was preparing to enter the chaotic world of Los Santos.

Munching on his pumpkin scone, Michael waited for his cab service to arrive. More than eager to depart once it came into view. "Hey there. Where can I take you?" His driver asked.

"Portola Drive. Rockford Hills." Michael directed, knowing well the charge would be a little outrageous just for the drive in town.

Settling into the backseat, Michael took a deep breath. Rubbing both his face and eyes in exhaustion. This gave him time to think and process about all that took place these passed two days. As Paleto Bay disappeared in the cab's rear-view mirror, Michael couldn't help to think he wouldn't see Sasha again.

Yet Michael knew it was all untrue. Certainly he would see Sasha again. All he had to do was make time. Searching his pockets once more, Michael had retrieved the piece of paper written regarding Sasha's Home Address and Phone Number. Pieces of an overall puzzle were falling into place. Something had clicked as Michael rejoined the world of Los Santos.

Seeing the lights, Michael quickly changed his mind as to where his destination headed. Leaning forward, he informed his driver. "Actually can you drop me off at El Burro Heights? Thanks a lot pal."

Another possibility had came to mind: Lester Crest

In no time at all, the cab driver pulled into the shifty neighborhood where Lester resided. "Thanks, man. A little extra for the minor inconvenience." Michael graciously paying for his ride watching as the cab driver disappeared before making his way through the neighborhood and where Lester's home resided.

Climbing to stairs to Lester's porch, Michael had knocked on Lester's door. There had been movement from Lester's security camera. "Come on, Lester. Open up. There's something important I need to converse to you about."

"Couldn't you have at least announce you were visiting today?"

"Don't get smart with me, tough guy. Open up. I'm here because I could use an old friend. Someone of your expertise."

"You always need someone of my expertise, Michael." Lester commented, unlatching his front door remotely.

Michael had let himself through the front door and into the crowed little home. Gun Locker precautions as per Lester's usual self. Some things never changing. "Now normally, I would ask why you would be dropping by unannounced. However. That changes because Franklin called because both him and Trevor have been wondering where you disappeared." Lester explained as he wheeled himself out near the doorway closest to Michael.

"I'm quite aware I've been gone for a few days."

"Are you now? Was there a good enough reason as to why you couldn't have called them or allow me to track you down?"

Lester had received his response by Michael throwing his water damaged phone into Lester's lap. "Do you think you can salvage my phone?"

"Is that all I'm good for you now, Michael? Phone repair?"

Lester had not been amused as the both of them were lead into Lester's main room of operations. Small computer in the corner. Several servers functioning and a detailed map of Los Santos nearby. Lester preoccupied, pulled up-to his main hub.

Lester glanced at Michael's phone only to give him a look of examination. Already suspicious. "Have you tried putting your phone in rice?"

"Very funny, Lester. Look. Our job was a bust. The guy you wanted me to investigate? One of the Penthouse top residence? Well it seems like you weren't kidding when you mentioned they have a knack for running people out of town."

"And yet here you are. Still standing in front of me."

"Yeah if it weren't for one person."

"Who?" Michael had brought to Lester's attention Sasha's credentials written on paper. "Is that a date or some random? What do you want me to do about this, Michael?"

"I want you to find out about Sasha Reeves."

"So what? Do you have an obligation to her? I'm not exactly motivated. Find someone else."

"I got myself into trouble. If it wasn't for her. I wouldn't be here standing in front of you-"

"-Let me guess you want me to wire her some money?"

"That's a nice gesture, Lest, but it's more complicated than that."

"Then what are you asking, Michael?"

"I just worry about her mental health. Keep tabs? Let me know what she's battling? Anything that might be of use?"

"You're asking awfully a lot out of some random."

"You still owe me that favor, Lester. I got you that information regarding several people over at the Diamond Casino. Even got myself shot. Now are you going to pay me back for the work I did for you or not?"

If one could argue with Michael's Logic, Lester could not. It was complicated when Michael was driven. Dedicated to a goal. Perhaps a trait Lester could have reasoned better with other the years, but adapted to well. "Fine. Fine. I got her information memorized already. Give me at least 48 hours. I'll call you with the details."

"When I get a new phone." Michael joked.

"You should return home to your family. I'm sure they're worried sick about you." There was something Michael had agreed upon.

"All right. I'll have a new phone by the end of today. Don't let me down, Lester. I'm counting on you."

Thus Michael departed Lester's house for now in favor of returning back to a somewhat normal routine.

* * *

With the credentials Michael gave Lester. He was already hard at work trying to find information about Sasha Reeves. Mainly out of curiosity as to why Michael had found Sasha of importance. Michael would have walked away from any given situation. A Life Debt on the other hand was just that: A Life Debt.

Lester entered Sasha's information into the Digital White Pages. Several websites soon followed. All the way prior to the now completely abandoned My Room Website of the cliche 2000s. Everyone had lived on Life Invader these days, but a little bit more of a lead never hurt anyone when gathering intel.

Cross-referencing never hurt anyone. Lester knew this well. Older websites were vulnerable, but at one time or another everyone had a My Room Account just like the onslaught of current social media. No one was exactly paranoid. They all had allowed themselves to be under equivalence.

The search for the specific Sasha Reeves that Michael wanted wasn't that hard to gather information about. There had been several others under the same name, but what stood out was Sasha's Mobile Phone Number. Lester had been smart enough to catch himself overlooking the smaller details.

Something that immediately caught his attention was how Sasha, though true to her name had several decoy leads. Pages about fake information. Making it as if though it had been an ongoing habit to hide in plain sight. "I commend you for giving me a challenge, Ms. Reeves. Someone like you wouldn't have caught the attention of Michael. You must have been one hell of a catch for him."

"4401 Procopio Drive. Yet your work is based in Los Santos? Interesting. Why work three hours away unless you had a defining reason behind your actions? No family name? Nothing to boast about in terms of a reputation. That all has to be lies. Everyone has a family history, Ms. Reeves. You're not the exception."

Digging further into her photos. Someone of interest had finally caught Lester's attention. Leaning back into his wheelchair he observed the man in the photo. Tagged in the photo had Sasha as a beautiful companion. She smiled in the wind of the photo taken. Checking the names. Lester smiled. There had been both a Sasha Reeves and Lance Marston.

Lance Marston. Lester had kept that name in mind as he pulled up another search page to research about who he had been. There had been a recent obituary. Apparently Lance had been a formerly married man. About the same age as Michael. Died of cancer. Just enough information to satisfy that lead. After all, it wasn't Lester's business to ask about a recent dead man unless it was Michael.

Browsing through Sasha's Life Invader Profile. Something didn't exactly seem right the more conspiracies brought up when poking his head through her posts and interactions with those she had on her friends' list. Lester had froze himself on a curious photo with both Lance and Sasha posing for a peculiar photo on the peer with what appeared to be very expensive yachts. Lester had leaned in to get a closer look on the more stunning details.

There had been a name that Lester could actually feel cold shivers down his spine. One of the names on the background yachts had been: The Vercetti Gale.


	5. Chapter V

"Mr. Crawford? Sir? Your five o'clock appointment has arrived." The intercom had announced, distracting him from his computer.

Crawford gave a moment to himself. Gathering the plan and preparing for the meeting ahead. The hour finally arrived. "Thank you, Felecia. Send him in." He spoke back into the intercom.

"At once, sir."

Convoluted and calculated wasn't enough to describe how tactful Aldrick Crawford carried himself. He was always quite the busy man. Others often considering it a blessing if they could be in his presence and he knew this. There had been a satisfying grin that formed on his face. His competition was finally going to know their prime weakness.

Aldrick stood up from his desk, walking over to his personal bar. Not only mere seconds later hearing his double doors open to his office. He opened his best whiskey, placing ice and pouring him and his guest glasses. "Second chances are never free, Mr. DeSanta." He turned to see Michael with his arms crossed. "Please. Join me for a drink." Crawford insisted, handing him one of the scotches poured. "I have an offer you may not want to refuse."

Michael had kept his silence, reaching for the spare glass given and sat on the available chairs provided in Aldrick's office. Crawford joined him. Sitting just across from Michael. "I thought you brought me here to kill me. Now you're offering me a deal? Quite unusual for someone like you. Hiring your enemy."

"Tell me something, Mr. DeSanta. Your obvious taste for a higher score is fascinating. Especially with someone of... open wealth such as myself. Posting to tabloids is a very back idea when being interviewed. The public clearly needs a rich role model such as myself. They know not how to obtain from such... talents."

"Speak for yourself. May I remind you that you're the one who ran me out of Los Santos? Targeting me until I would die?"

"Yet here you are, Mr. DeSanta. Alive. Alive and well might I add."

"You're the one who wanted me dead. Have you brought me here to kill me? Yes or no?"

"For an intelligent man such as yourself you know that wealth is acquired by the savvy. Business savvy. This doubles for people like myself or dare I say my competitors: The Vercetti Family. I am of high reputation here in Los Santos. Everything had been quiet until Evan Marston insisted that he partner with Garett Vercetti."

"Get to your point." Michael wasn't bothered by the details.

"I have connections with the military and others of interest. If you take the job offered. I pay double what you were after from me. I pull a few strings. People won't suspect you were an accomplice."

Michael had given a laugh at Crawford's offer. "So the man who wanted me dead now offers me a job against his own competition? There are no rivals, Aldrick. Only business offers."

"I'll spare you the pleasantries. How about I offer two million upon every heirloom you can steal? Upon these receipts. I can make you a wealthy man."

"Two million per each heirloom? What exactly makes them so... unique?"

"There are certain components in modern technology that could benefit. There are a few heirlooms I've locked my eyes upon... John Marston's Cattleman Revolver and his specially modified Carcano Rifle. I'll even give you a bonus if you can also retrieve his Double Barrel Shotgun and Winchester Rifle."

Michael generously downed the remaining scotch, placing the glass onto the table between him and Crawford. "All right. Since you already knew how to tie up loose ends. I'll consider your offer, Mr. Crawford. Send my affiliate the details."

"Don't linger on this opportunity for too long. You have one month. Remember: The opportunity is yours, Mr. DeSanta." Crawford concluded as Michael stood up from his chair. Michael had shook his hand upon the deal. "I'll explain everything in depth through the e-mail Felecia will send. First we meet at one of the Vercetti's Famous Dinner Parties at the Diamond Casino and Resort. The Vercetti Family have always more than considerate with their guests.

"You could have obtained anyone off the streets, Mr. Crawford? Why find interest in someone like me? Someone who failed a heist against you?"

"You're a cockroach Mr. Michael DeSanta. You survived my bodyguards. Miraculously. You could have turned me into the authorities. I'm certain that you're a wanted man. The LSPD are on the lookout with someone of your... description."

Michael swatted Crawford's description. His details of him didn't take Michael's interest. "If you don't hear from my accomplice in a few days. Find someone else."

With that Michael had departed from Aldrick's Office. While Crawford himself joined the side of his Secretary: Felecia. Nothing had been said until Michael was clearly out of earshot. "Felecia. Please remind Sasha Vercetti I have a dinner date with her tonight. Important matters need to be discussed."

"Certainly, sir. Right away."

* * *

  
Returning to the City of Los Santos made Sasha greatly uneasy. Having parked her Pegassi Vacca in the VIP Penthouse Garage. She had the dread back in her mind having been a few minutes late. Her business affiliate: Aldrick Crawford was always a precise man. He had been anticipating Sasha's arrival.

Having been eager to greet her, Aldrick had escorted her out of her Pegassi. "Sasha! Darling! You look extravagant! A stunning example of her mother!" Crawford had even been a gentleman, kissing her left hand. "You're all dressed up for me."

Maybe for something of this occasion. Her appearance had Aldrick in awe. An aquamarine silk dress accompanied her diamonds. Even her hair had curls, held back by bobby pins. "The pleasure is all mine, Aldrick. It's nice to see you again."

"You're one of the best Ambassadors of the Vercetti Family. You most certainly could have more if you just inherited your Grandfather's Empire. You could rule the world. How is Tommy might I ask? Is he well?"

"Tommy has been wonderful." Sasha had lied, knowing well she was hiding away in Paleto Bay. "I'll remind him that you extend your pleasantries. Vice City has been bustling as usual."

"That's excellent news, Sasha. Garett and Tommy must be proud. Join me. Shall we discuss more shipments of product of this meeting? This could be another expansion offer for your Family's Empire."

Having entered the elevator onto the Casino floor, Aldrick and Sasha had enjoyed on another's company. The Casino may have been crowded, but the tables said otherwise. During a few games of Three Card Poker, one of the hosts offered a drink. Drinks being free as long as you played.

"I have a special order for you. That's if you can make it." Sasha had flagged down a host. "You might want to write this down." She joked. "Three ounces of gin, one ounce of vodka, half ounce of dry vermouth, and finally a lemon peel for an appealing garnish. Got all that?" The host had nodded. "Wonderful. Please remember to shake it. Not stir."

Crawford rose an eyebrow at Sasha's order. "That's one hell of an order, darling. How does it taste exactly?"

"Strong." Sasha responded back. "But that's what makes it good."

"Make that two, if you may. Add a few more to that order." Aldrick tipped the host. Returning back to his game at the table.

Sasha had returned her attention towards Aldrick. "So tell me, Crawford. Besides discussing business. What honor do I have for this meeting?"

"For your upcoming Dinner Party, I have a new business associate that I would love for you to meet. He has quite of a lot potential. Could be a benefit to ease your stressful work hours. One I'm sure Tommy would be delighted."

"That's wonderful, Aldrick! I knew I could depend in you! Thank you."

"You're only kidding yourself if you think you can work an empire like Tommy's solo. You're a descendant. Automatic respect is given to you just with your last name. Do you fathom the power that you inherited?"

"There are some days I most certainly can't... I know many would call me a legacy. An investor to the trade. Yet it's just not my calling. I have responsibility over something I have little knowledge regarding."

The evening carried on as they finished their drinks and won 50,000 in chips. Satisfied both Aldrick and Sasha disappeared up top the Roof Terrace knowing it was a beautiful evening. There had been a private alcove reserved for them. The skyline of Los Santos accompanying them. The scene had been set and everything was almost perfect with a candle lit dinner.

Light conversation turned into a serious matter as Aldrick had changed the topic. "The City of Los Santos could benefit from the Vercetti Family." He remarked.

"There's a reason why the Vercetti Family, especially Tom has limited contacts and those he can trust, Aldrick. He has a tight leash. Especially these days when everything is accessible through the internet and Life Invader's Social Media site."

"Let's get real, Sasha, darling. You and I both know that the 1980s have become a forgotten past time."

"Tell me you joke, Crawford." Sasha threw a little bit of her attitude back. "I think what our current generation is going through is a version of the 80s. People can obtain your information... Take sides. Not to mention Cancel Culture. I'm not into all that, but we're all somehow involved with unusual drama more than ever these days. It's just all too... eerily familiar."

"You and that imagination of yours." Crawford laughed. "You sound overwhelmed. You could do for a few days off, darling."

"The cocaine and druglords haven't gone away, Aldrick. We've all just become the corruption of this world."

"Did you ever explain your concerns with your Grandfather? You should be taking your birthright with greater care than your doubts."

"We just need more improvements in the right places. Not the backstabbing traitors. Expansion is always good, but trust and loyalty?" Her eyes met with Crawford. "We just had a wonderful family friend pass. Lance Marston? Of course you remember him? Cancer finally took his life. Unfortunate events. Completely out of our control."

There had been nothing that Aldrick could say that could comfort Sasha. He drew her in and kissed her forehead. "How about this then? We announce more expansion regarding Tommy's Empire at the dinner party? With proper means, everything will work out as intended. Don't stress. What I have to present could be a welcome change. All you would have to do is trust me."


	6. Chapter VI

For a calm evening, the overwhelming stress of Aldrick faded into the background. Sasha watched as the moon shined brightly into the night sky. All of it flooded with bright stars. Stargazing alone, her face had glowed from the firepit just beside her. Her aquamarine high heeled shoes in hand... Sasha had felt sore. Socializing had never been her stronger suit.

Even if it mean business meetings.

Enduring Aldrick had been a difficult task. Though a recommended partner when it came down to semantics, Crawford was a dangerous man. People of his kind were a rocky boat. If there were a few words to describe Aldrick from Sasha's perspective they would be unhinged and confident. Los Santos would be a better place without people like him.

Tommy needed a more solid presence here in Los Santos. With his ruling alone, perhaps the gangs could be more cooperative. All Tommy needed-

"You look beautiful tonight." A familiar voice to Sasha's right caught her attention. Her eyes had brightened as she saw her visitor through the glow of the radiant firepit.

"Hello, Michael." Sasha responded with a warm smile. Her stress melting away. If there was one person she could trust. It was him. "How did you know I would be found here?"

Michael had given a warm smile in return, joining her side. For a moment he wanted to tell her about his encounter with Crawford. Only to be more awestruck by Sasha's beauty. "Long enough to observe how Aldrick was pulling moves on you that clearly made you uncomfortable." Michael's left fingers had brushed Sasha's hair out of her face.

"So you decided to play hero? I'm not buying that, Michael. Please tell me the truth."

Michael nodded. It was at least worth a shot back in his mind. "All right. You caught me. I had my old friend Lester do a background check on you. I stole your number before I left Paleto Bay. I was worried about you. Especially in the state you were in. I couldn't have just leave you."

Sasha was taken aback. There had been a questionable gaze from her in return. "You know that I had offered my home as a Sanctuary. In what terms did you not think you wouldn't see me again? Lance just pushed me into darkness for a short time. I'm not suicidal."

"Your medications tell me another story, Sasha. Your thoughts. What you shared with me. Being an alcoholic. You shouldn't be alone."

"You have no business putting yourself in my life!" Sasha's voice pitched higher and she got to her feet. "Don't you think I had a reason not to tell you who I truly was? That I had a Place of Sanctuary? One I invited YOU into. Something to escape?!"

"Is it because you're a Vercetti? In case you didn't notice. I honestly don't care about that. You know what I am stressing over? That I'm in your eternal debt. Simply because you saved my sorry butt. Let me return the favor. Something!"

Sasha was beginning to revolt. "If you did your research. Which you clearly did! You would also figure out that I'm a very dangerous woman! Not by just my reputation alone, Michael. It's primarily because of my family name! There's a reason why I don't tell people my real last name! You can't relate!"

"Actually. I can. Quite frankly I can even extend my courtesy by saying WHY you didn't care to tell me your real last name. This includes anything that might follow suit. As you become more private. You're better off without the trouble!"

"You!" Anger was clearly in her voice by now. "You... fucking HYPOCRITE!"

With shock, anger and her blood boiling Sasha stormed off the Roof Terrace. Dashing for the elevator back to her Penthouse. Michael bolted after her. Calling her name. It had even been enough to witness her cry as Michael stalled the elevator doors from closing. "Sasha. Wait. Don't leave. I'm sorry. Look. Everything what I said still stands. Sure. I shouldn't have done a background check on you. But what was I supposed to do? Question if you were to survive? If you were going to still be on this earth the next day?"

"Damn it, Michael. All it accomplished was making you a prime target." Sasha's words made Michael want to confess, but now wasn't the time.

"It's a bit too late for that, kid." Michael stated, getting distracted by the elevator doors dinging at him to remove his body. "Did you not hear what I had stated before? I don't give a damn if you're a public figure. You saved my miserable life! Now let me save YOURS."

By now, Michael had inched closer to Sasha. Having them be alone in the elevator as the doors had finally cleared to close. "I appreciate the intensive, Michael. Really, but can't you just take the act of random kindness and move on with your life?"

Michael inched his was even closer. Now face to face with Sasha. "I can't. I can't just let you walk away from me. Not knowing that as you offered me your place of Sanctuary that I would ever see you again." He had brought her into a full embrace. "Listen. I've been where you're currently experiencing. Lost in a rage. Not knowing if asking for help not only for yourself, but just to ask someone to be by your side it going to accomplish anything."

"There's nothing I can do to accomplish anything." Sasha broke down into Michael's arms. "Lance was supposed to help me manage my Grandfather's Empire and I'm left with nobody. I'm alone. None of this is even in my field of expertise. Lance told me we were going to be partners. That everything was fine. Then I get news that he died. Nothing went according to plan."

The elevator had opened back up as it had arrived to Sasha's Penthouse Suite. Sasha walked ahead, glancing back at Michael. "I would prefer if this wasn't mentioned." She ordered. "Go home, Michael. Give me a call in the morning. I promise I'll answer. As of right now. I have work meetings and associates to interview."

Michael watched as Sasha walked down the corridor to reach the entryway of her High Class Penthouse Suite. His thoughts and actions silent as the elevator doors closed behind him. He turned around to reach for the Parking Garage Floor. Yet his right hand had dropped. Sasha had been an emotional mess. Michael had seen her for who she truly was in the moment. There was no one to back her up and there was a possibility of her making reckless, brash decisions.

Michael's hand pressed the button for the doors to reopen. "Promise me, kid."

Sasha, who had been preoccupied at locating her keys turned her head towards him. "What?"

Michael exited the elevator. Walking towards her. Finding a way to restate his question. "Promise me that you'll moderate your drinking. That you won't die from alcohol poisoning. I completely understand spacing out or having a beer after a rough day or even enduring morons. I need you to promise me that you'll keep living. That you'll find purpose again."

Sasha didn't respond immediately. She had opened her door to the Penthouse, motioning for Michael to step inside. "You can help yourself with a drink at the bar. I'll just be a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

As she had disappeared into her bedroom, Michael was fascinated by the enormous space of the Penthouse alone. High end decor caught his attention as he wandered over by the bar. Many expensive liquors lined the mirrored space. Michael was even willing enough to entertain Sasha's instructions, rounding the counter to help himself. His eyes had scoped the place. It was truly a sight to behold.

"High end living. If I knew becoming a druglord would provide me with such nice luxuries. I would have changed careers a long time ago." There had been a spare bedroom, a separate office and even what appeared to be an antiques art gallery. There had been plenty to discover in Sasha's elaborate home.

With the entire floor to navigate, Michael had naturally been drawn to the art gallery. Items of interest caught his attention as he observed the impressive classic weaponry upon the display mantle. Taking a swig from the bottle he gripped. he found himself clearing the burn from his throat. The scotch he had was above his normal tolerance, but still smooth.

Thinking he could carry on with the spectral of the sheer collection, Michael had stopped in his tracks. Double taking at the placard his eyes had read. Could it be? His focus confirming his concerns. Reading the engraving again. His jaw practically dropped. It had been John Martson's Carcano Rifle! This was the primary collection Crawford had sought.

Thoughts formed internally. His palms began to run cold and his heart raced. How Sasha had the collection Crawford requested wasn't the mystery. Everything that Aldrick had come into question. Rather it be a challenge to pull the heist against Sasha wasn't the challenge. The morality was if Sasha was in direct danger because of him.

Michael knew he had to tell her. He needed to explain that Aldrick wasn't to be trusted.

"Quite the display. Isn't it?" Sasha's voice had caught Michael off guard as she joined him in a more casual attire. "Being that Lance never had any children, I was the closest heir to his "family". Even if I wasn't related. He trusted most of his inheritance to me. John Marston's prized weaponry is of greater value than a normal heirloom."

"Any idea why Lance would trust you with his family heirlooms?"

Sasha had shrugged. "Who knows. I don't know why I was selected outside of his immediate family. Being that I was never an extended family bloodline... it was all confusing to me. Even if I did know him for over two decades. Maybe the majority of his family members didn't understand the importance of this type of inherited collection? Value aside."

Having listened to her explanation, every voice in the back of Michael's head were screaming to confess. Yet he couldn't bring himself to tell her that Aldrick was targeting her simply because she had unintentionally placed in harm's way. "That sounds heavy. A heavy burden and responsibility to carry. Sometime we do find the friends who become family. Blood related or not... I have no words. I share your pain. I'm truly sorry."

Sasha had swiped Michael's scotch bottle, taking a shot before considering to comment on his experience. "I almost want to joke that you're onto something, Michael." She laughed, having then taking another drink. "You know as well as anyone, not just in age, but in experience. That through your own perspective that there are going to be certain people who enter our lives. Then before we blink or appreciate them truly... They're gone."

Michael had become troubled. He had took back his liquor bottle, there had been an audible sigh that accompanied his thoughts. "How about we forget the smaller details for just tonight?"

"That sounds like a better plan than I had tonight."

"You mean dealing with perverted business men?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. DeSanta." Sasha had remarked back, giving a slight giggle to Michael's precise assumption.

* * *

The remainder of the evening was spend by what Sasha would label as "Lakeside Company". Meaning both her and Michael would be in each others company without saying much. Just being by each others side was enough. Physical Healing through comfort. They even had taken their share drinking from the same scotch bottle until they were dead drunk.

"Okay. Okay." Sasha spoke through her intoxicated state, nudging Michael's body. "How's this for an embarrassing story...? When I was younger I was so terrible at lockpicking that the authorities questioned the wrong person simply because they believed it was attempted by a copy cat. I had failed so damn much that I wasn't a suspect at my own crime scene."

Michael gave a hearty laugh. "Ah... the days of being an inexperienced thief. I can relate to that! Reminds me of the jobs I was once hired for back in Liberty City. Now... Now THAT kind of learned talent took over a decade to master. Even as I improved... there were more than plenty missteps. Regrets. Assholes. Even as you mastered your skills... one way on another you're going to fuck up."

Sasha had fully agreed with Michael's statement. "I had been forced to train myself as a basic thief even if it wouldn't contribute to my current career path."

"There would be no way I could envision someone like you honing basic thievery skills. Why was something like that forced on you?"

"It became a strange "Family Tradition" thanks to Tommy. He even had the strange decency to call them necessary "Survival Skills". Just incase anyone of us were caught in-between a rock and a hard place. Or as Tom loved to title it: "Down on our luck"."

"From the stories I heard about your Grandfather? He's a very intelligent man. He takes the dangerous scenarios that he endured and passes it to the next generation in hopes they won't make the same mistakes. Every near death experience becomes a life lesson not to repeat throughout life."

"Lance had met Tommy during a low point of our family business. The Vercetti Family I mean. We had been struggling. So him and Tom struck a reasonable deal to keep everything afloat. I honestly don't think our empire or reputation alone would be here without people like Lance. He had more insight on people's behavior and reactions. In no time Tom and Lance reached the prime of their business endeavors. They weren't to be trifled with."

"The sad fact of today. The fantasy of today aren't the 80s of yesterday. Becoming more than a cliched relic of the past. Now days it's rather you continue taking risks that bring more trouble or you make yourself into a "legit" company. Don't get me wrong, though. Going legit can be a difficult venture as well. Any successful trade requires the right people. The downfall is that you don't know who people really are. They can say anything. Everybody lies."

"And that's why I'm here, Michael. I may not know much about the empire Tom built, but I do know a lot about working negotiations and other deals. I've accomplished more than what my parents ever could. I'm a reliable Ambassador by an excelled standard. It took awhile for anyone to have true faith in my abilities, but their tone changed with every successful deal. My skills may not be perfect, but we have more compared to the last two decades. At the very least."

"You don't actually... interact with the product... do you? There's always a rule to never get high off your own supply for good reasons."

"I may be old fashioned, but I prefer to be a classic business woman. A few drinks. One on one trust building tactics. No one interferes. Even if I have to tackle... uncomfortable obstacles or challenges along the way."

"If I wasn't misunderstanding... You sound like you could benefit from a little extra protection. Maybe even a stubborn bodyguard to assure your safety."

Sasha had grinned, raising her left eyebrow in Michael's direction. "What? You mean someone like YOU, Michael? You flatter me."

"With someone as attractive as you? I don't doubt for one second that you had more than a few... uncomfortable situations. In your chosen profession? I'm surprised you haven't accidentally placed yourself in grave danger."

Sasha's head had slightly bobbed towards Michael. Having it drift to her right, yet still maintained eye contact with him. "That concern in you voice! That tender tone! You're worried about me... aren't you, Mr. DeSanta? You don't think a single gal like me can't place up a front? You honestly believe I need extra muscle to scare the big baddies away?"

Michael had been speechless. He lightly cupped Sasha's chin. Caressing her left cheek. He had met her gaze equally. His former judgement had fogged his mind with intoxication. There had been heartstrings tugged. Michael had ached with guilt and remorse. It was his own actions that he had endangered Sasha. The pure dread and overwhelming fear branched inside Michael's head. How would she react knowing that Crawford was trying to make a business partner out of Michael himself?

All of this because of Lance? Everyone had been to blame.

Sasha continued to whisper Michael's name through his deep trance. Clouded haze through everlasting silence and compassion. He needed to make a move to assure that Sasha could trust him. No matter how outrageous the next action played on his part. Time was short and Sasha needed to be prepared. What could Michael convince Sasha without words? Without judgement? Without fear?

Inching closer to her face, Michael had given Sasha a soft, gentle kiss. Having now left her breathless. Her mind had but only one thought...

Michael.


	7. Chapter VII

"Hey Lester. It's me."

"Good Morning, Michael. I was almost certain you wouldn't return my call from last time we spoke. Have you reached a decision involving Mr. Crawford and Ms. Vercetti?"

"Yeah, actually. Would you kindly inform Mr. Crawford that there's absolutely no deal?"

This response had Lester go silent for a moment. "Are you self aware that knowing you live... Aldrick will make you one of his targets? Are you certain you don't wish to reconsider?"

Michael gave a long drawn out sigh. "There is very little choice for either option, Lester. Let me just elaborate that I might be too deep into this situation. It's no one's fault, but I feel it necessary to complete any business here. Sasha included." Overall for him, Michael wanted to scream in his head. Anything that would make him convince himself to leave. Everything would have been completely different if he didn't even comply with Sasha or departing from her place if he just taken her Pegessi.

It would become a tale of aligning factors.

"All right, Michael. Tell you what. I'll delay Aldrick for as long as necessary so that you can have some preparations. Might I suggest you stock up at Ammu-Nation? You're going to need some serious firepower if you plan on taking his men directly. That's the best advice a friend can give you. For the artillery he has at his disposal... You're better safe than sorry."

"Greatly appreciated, Lester. Thanks." Michael responded. "I'll call you when I'm next available."

"Sure thing, Michael. Look after yourself. I'll keep you updated."

Michael had stashed his phone away in his pants pocket. Giving himself a sobering view of Los Santos before turning around to face Sasha whom had been naked. Slumbering in her bed. This predicament was certainly unique, but under control. At least that's the though Michael kept to convince himself it wasn't a nightmare.

Yet here Michael was, standing out on the balcony of Sasha Vercetti's Penthouse. Observing her covered body. Her back having been turned away from the rays of sunlight. The stress of trying to figure out if Sasha trusted him completely lingered in the back of his head. In truth Michael knew he needed more time. This was the time to act. Careful wording and preparations were required at this point.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Michael had entered Sasha's Bedroom's sliding glass door. Trying to keep his rustling to a minimum, he had joined her side. Making sure he didn't wake her just yet. His mind scanning her bedroom. Having taking notice of the empty liquor bottles. This included the one they had both generously shared the night prior.

Before Michael's thought could embellish in the quiet aroma, he leaned over to Sasha, kissing her forehead. Sasha had shifted in her sleep. Waking up with a 'Hm?' and a deep breath. Having soon came to her senses now seeing Michael still beside her. "You're still here?" She asked in her groggy voice. Waking herself up further. "Shouldn't you be home with your loved ones?"

"Not without breakfast." Michael had snarled.

"Without me is what I'm going to insist."

"And why exactly would that be, Ms. Vercetti? Is it your reputation?"

"I just don't think it's right for married men-"

"Kid. I hate to break it to you, but after last night? That ship sailed long ago."

"Don't start an argument you won't win, Michael. Especially if it's a woman." She mentions, sitting up to cover the upper half of her body.

"We're both to blame, darling." Michael had hammered in that point, now leaning closer into her. "We can point at each other and make excuses all we want. Doesn't derail the fact something happened that was going to be inevitable. All you had to say was no."

"What do you mean?"

"Well.. the next part of my story just sucks. My wife cheated on me recently. Twice as a matter of fact. Once with the Tennis Coach. The Second with her Yoga Instructor. Not to mention that I caught the Tennis Coach in bed with my own wife. Someone I was paying. It caused strain for awhile and she even left for a chunk of time with our children."

"Wait. Hold the fuck up." Sasha had been wide awake by now. "You're telling me that you practically paid some random to fuck your wife? And you're telling me you're still with the bimbo?"

"I think the term you're looking for is "settled for whatever bullshit I have now"." Michael had corrected. "I fail miserably at loving my own god damn wife."

Sasha let out a more confused laugh than anything else she could fathom what Michael had been telling her. "Yet here I was these passed few days thinking I shouldn't have certain thoughts about you or push our limits only to learn that your wife is a slut."

"Hey." Michael had threw back at Sasha's attitude. "You're not my marriage counselor last I checked. This includes the position of a consultant or an advisor for that matter!"

"As ducks quack, Michael! I once said the same thing about you!" Sasha by now had climbed on-top of Michael. Who actually allowed this even if he had been ruffled. "Funny that you lecture me about my life when I try to give you sound advice!"

"Your situation is not similar to mine, kid." Michael had explained the best he could.

"No! Not one fucking bit." Sasha had expressed back. "What I'm trying to suggest is that you most certainly deserve better than her! After awhile you just submit to the cycle of abuse until either of you rather drive each other apart or worse. Why are you staying with someone who you know won't change?"

"Like you?" Michael questioned on a whim. Stinging Sasha's prescient. "You really are one to talk, darling."

This gave Sasha an interesting thought. "All right. How about this, Michael? I'll convince you that you'll have a better life if you help me through my grief of "alcoholism". If that's how you want to label my "addiction"? I'll change and moderate my drinking if you're willing to pull through for me."

"You label me the hypocrite all the while you could have made that promise the first time we met! What drives you for this motivation? Getting others involved in your drama? What would make you exactly interested in helping someone like me? Who is twice your age mind you."

"No one. Not even us have to subject themselves to an abusive situation, past or cycle that doesn't help us grow and change for the better. Perhaps in this case... your wife. She had no reason to cheat on someone like you!"

"Sasha... you-"

Sasha had ignored the words that Michael struggled to express. Instead... she had buried her face into the left side of his neck. "Promise me, Michael. Promise me you won't settle of less. That you know that you deserve better. No matter the years that will separate us or we never see one another again. I promise to help you if you help me."

Michael had been speechless. Feeling Sasha's caress. Small factors had him contemplating. He knew he had to see this through. "Fine." He finally agreed. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to your word, Michael. Now won't you join me in the shower before we head down to the restaurant here for food? I'm a little too hung over to be cooking us both a meal."

In return, Michael gave a smoldering glance. Her smile ever-so welcoming as they prepared themselves for the day ahead.

* * *

With a relaxing morning, Michael had been escorted by Sasha back to his car after breakfast. He had given her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you later. I got some work that needs to be done." Those words alone had tormented him. Having to depart the Diamond Casino.

Michael wanted to head home. Anything to assure his family he had been alive these passed few days other than brief visits. Yet something had stalled him. Driving down Vinewood as he approached his house down Rockford Hill made him contemplate. Sasha might actually having a point had bothered Michael extensively.

Had Michael really settled for less? What had he stayed with Amanda? He couldn't help but to hear the repeat the echo of words. Something Sasha wanted to bring to light. Michael had been reminded of his own father. His bastard of an alcoholic physically abusive father. Michael had buried his face into the steering wheel of his car.

What consequences would Michael face from not associating with Sasha again if he had felt the need to tell her that she was absolutely wrong?

The years that passed Michael had him questioning if he had really become a reflection of his father? The waves of the past catching up with him. Michael had thought about the lies his own mother told him about his own dad. How he had left because of other reasons faltered. Like any other cycle. He had endured his own mother's torment.

There had been no denying that she had settled for less herself. Boyfriend after abusive boyfriend. Him begging her not to submit to similar behaviors he saw reflecting his own father. The failed advice that Michael gave to his own mother fell most often on deaf ears. Memories of those years were still fresh with Michael.

The day that Michael witnessed his father leave. His mother take on the dismal trait of alcoholism. He saw it all. The cycle his mother enured. The abandonment of his father. No matter how estranged he had been with his parents... He had one wish and hoped they had still been alive. No matter how much sour hatred he had towards both. Regardless of the emotional disconnect or torment.

The similarities were most uncanny. Reflecting on Sasha's own abuse of liquor. Her own struggles. Centering himself and remaining calm wasn't helping. Michael wasn't the type to bottle up any of his emotions. So he had taken all the physical abuse out on his steering wheel. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! For the love of God don't tell me it's just a repeat of the past. Don't make me face this. I ran away from this lifestyle! Why?! Give me a god damn answer!"

Right on queue, Michael's phone had rang. Checking his phone screen it had been an unknown number. "Oh. Very fucking funny." He growled upon answering the call. "Yeah. DeSanta Residence. How the fuck can I ruin your day today?"

"You appear to be very sound for a walking dead man, Mr. DeSanta." Spoke the voice on the receiving end. "It seems Sasha's blind faith in you was well... suited."

"Yeah and who the hell are you?"

The voice found humor in Michael's question. "The Family doesn't abandon anyone or leave anyone behind. I'm not conversing over the phone, Mr. DeSanta. I'm going to text you a destination. I recommend you meet me there. I'll see you very soon."

Before Michael could speak his next word. The receiving end had hung up. Ending their call. Confused, there had been a brief tie to make sense of everything that was just handed to him on a silver platter. More nonsense had flashed on Michael's phone directing him to his destination. "What the hell?"

The location he had been texted was Pacific Bluff Cemetery. The text instructed him to find a practical and isolated spot might they carry a conversation out of earshot. With this text. Michael had forwarded it to Lester. Telling him to track who the hell this was and their background. He knew better than to continue falling down a rabbit hole without more information.

Taking a deep breath. Michael knew that he was getting deeper. The hints he was given by the opposite party had his thoughts race. The Family. It was them. Michael was going to meet another member of the Vercetti Family.


	8. Chapter VIII

Marcello Vercetti had always been a prompt and stagnant man. Nor was he one to waste time or lead others astray. Especially if he had interest in specific individuals. Someone like Michael DeSanta landing on his radar was more than unexpected. Michael showing up with his sister was what concerned his focus.

Carefully observing Michael's arrival at the Cemetery had him be easily trailed. From a distance even Michael could detect that he had been followed. Once the cat was out of the bag, Marcello could see how alert and focused Michael adapted with his surrounding environment. Already Marcello had given Michael points for following instructions at being discreet.

This was indeed the same man that was rumored to be in Sasha's Company. Tommy had been greatly concerned for her safety. Demanding to know who the hell Michael DeSanta was... "Sasha will always have her self destructive pattern when trying to cope. Do her a favor and keep watch. Keep her safe. No matter the cost."

If Tommy had his say. Certainly Michael wouldn't be breathing, but having received updates about Sasha and a possible entanglement. Tommy had another idea to make use of everyone's well being. Perhaps Michael had a better opportunity working with them rather thank against them. Marcello had to keep his composure. That's all he could promise Tommy when encountering Michael.

"Michael DeSanta?" Marcello greeted him with a light accent and a firm handshake.

"You must be my secret admirer."

"Marcello Vercetti. I'm the older brother of Sasha. My little sister." He properly introduced himself to see Michael as an equal if respect was reciprocated.

"How are you doing, Mr. Vercetti? How might I be of service?"

"Mr. Vercetti is my Grandfather and with great reason. Call me Marcello and I'll address you likewise if that works for you." Michael had nodded to return. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I had heard that my sister is in good hands with a man of your reputation? It seems like you caused quite a ruckus with Merry Weather and FIB. Perhaps you're just a man who has chaos in his wake. It matters not. Your type are always frantic."

"My type?" Michael asked upon crossing his arms. "What exactly is wrong with my type, pal?"

Marcello lifted his arms, defending his ground. "Hey, now. I may talk the way I do, but don't take any offense. I'm a native of Liberty City."

Michael shared a baffle look. "Liberty City? What the hell are you doing in Los Santos?"

"I've been trying to find my baby sister. If you haven't noticed. Sasha hasn't been herself. She hasn't been answering her phone outside of Aldrick Crawford. You emerged with her just sometime after. Don't try and deny it because I have eyes and ears everywhere. You were with her just the night before. We keep tabs on all those who invite themselves around the family."

"Aggressive. I think that suits you well, Marcello. I'm not causing trouble. You stalking me explains how brash you're handling this situation." spoke Michael. "You sound a little paranoid having my type around your sister."

"It was a very rushed and personal request that I speak with you on these terms, Mike. Not my choice, but after Lance Marston passed. The rest is history. It's certainly not out of animosity. I'm assuming you've been told about Marston?"

"Yeah. That him and your family were close knit. His death was sudden and everyone had been effected. Your sister..." Michael had to reviewed his words carefully. "You're aware she's self destructive, but are you aware that she drinks? I fear her state. If she is unstable... it could be a very..." Marcello caught onto Michael's stress.

"Has Sasha resorted to that much? That would explain why she didn't answer her phone for the passed few weeks. Lucky you stumbled upon her the way you did then."

"Sheer dumb luck." Michael commented. "Sheer dumb fucking luck."

"I would be honored to hear that tale, Mr. DeSanta. Hearing my sister has turned to hard liquor isn't a surprise. Lance was a good man. My guess is that she'll do anything to not face reality."

"What of Lance?"

"Sasha and him... were close. Practically inseparable. If you ask those who knew them? It had completely shattered her when the news of his death came. It was a secret he kept not only from her. Lance kept it from everyone. Damn bastard was selfish enough. Died alone."

"Then what exactly do you seek from me? I'm already involved. Things have become quite complicated. I can't even explain it to my own family."

Marcello rubbed his face, reached into his jacket pocket. Giving Michael a small stack of cash which Michael automatically grabbed from him. "I'm asking of a favor from you, Mr. DeSanta. Not only from me, but from Tommy directly." Marcello ran his fingers through his hair. "I know how much of an impact this has on your life. All so very sudden... but I am asking that you protect my sister. She could use a bodyguard like you."

"Why can't you just call her yourself?"

There had been a quick glare of Marcello's phone came into Michael's view. There had been several calls and texts missed or not responded to over a period of time. "When Sasha shuts down... she shuts up. You're about as close to her anyone has been in recent weeks. What you were just handed was a small bonus. Best you just do what Tommy asks. You'll find it easier to work with him in that regard."

"You don't even know who the hell I am."

"Let's just say that I know enough. Just do what you're told."

Michael kept silent having received cash. Money had a way of talking. So did the Vercetti Family. No doubts or questions about it. Trying to process everything, he was capable of halting Marcello in his exit with a simple phrase. "Wait. There's something I was speak to you regarding your sister. It's about Aldrick Crawford."

* * *

"Let me assure you that Lance would be devastated to see you in this state." Sasha could still hear Michael's words echoing in the back of her head. The rest of her afternoon had been empty without him being by her side. The silence was strange to endure.

Staring at her home bar mirror. She could see her imagination running off with her. Reviewing just the nights before of the laughter she shared with Michael. Their nights together would forever linger in the back of her mind. These passed few days had been quite the adventure.

Everything had seemed to slow down, however now seeing what her mind recognized as their framed picture together in-front of her Grandfather's Yacht "The Vercetti Gale". Lance was even generous enough to sign the photo. "Let's do this again soon! Vice City! Next year! Count on it! Much Love! - Lance." Reading that grounded her mind. Her heart had ached. There was still a part of her that wanted anything in the world to have him back.

"Why don't you trust me?" Lance had asked as if distant, yet in the same room.

Enraged, Sasha gripped the picture frame, shattering her bar mirror. Watching as the shard pieces covered the shelves, counter and floor. "You self centered bastard. The one thing you had to speak to me was the truth. I would have been by your side. I would have helped you fight until the very bitter end.

Grabbing the nearest liquor bottle, Sasha knew it would help with the voices she was hearing. They were getting increasingly worse. The problem was telling Michael the truth. Still hiding away behind a mask. The unfinished resolution of Lance's death was something Sasha would have to face alone.

"I love you, Sasha. I always will." Lance's voice had echoed in her mind.

Through mournful tears she spoke again to herself. "I love you too, Lance." Starting to drown out the voices in the back of her head. "I'm not too crazy about hearing your voice. You are my greatest tormentor. Perhaps that's now more of a personal problem. Like the Book of Revelation. Michael arrived at just the right time."

Fallen Angel or not. Michael had certainly been a small blessing for a short time. Swig after swig she continued to drown out the memories of recent past. Perhaps breaking the promise she made to Michael earlier in the day. Had it mattered. There would have been a great feeling of guilt. In the moment. There was none.

Only the abyss staring back.


	9. Chapter IX

With very little interaction between him and Michael. There had been much to Marcello's bewilderment. He had been more at ease knowing what Michael had done to assure Sasha's safety thus far and speaking the truth about Aldrick. Gears were turning on confronting the upcoming danger. Tommy would most certainly get himself involved.

"So... Aldrick offered an opportunity to you and he gave you a window to debate if you would? Have you accepted his offer?"

"I told him it would be considered, but knowing he ran me out of Los Santos once already. You can't blame me when I express... mutual hatred about the man. He won't stop at nothing if he is targeting Lance Marston's Heirlooms. There's no doubt in the back of my mind that Sasha will be placed in harms way. His heist, should he get someone talented as myself? Aldrick targets the Vercetti Dinner Party."

"Always with the fireworks. Aldrick." Marcello spoke to himself, shaking his head. "I thank you for your information, Mike. I'll inform Tommy and prepare the others who might attend. I suggest you do the same with the cash I gave you. Please. We already lost a close friend of ours. Tommy most certainly won't accept another dying under his watch. Your services will be greatly needed within the Vercetti Family."

Michael had watched Marcello increase his pace until he was out of eye sight. It was now a confirmed stance that Michael knew his place within the Vercetti Family. He had officially been hired by Tommy through Marcello. Becoming Sasha's Bodyguard. Stashing his newly found cash, Michael had just a few more tasks to run before returning to Sasha.

Knowing it would take time, Michael took out his phone to text Sasha. "Hey. I hope you're all right." Sent.

The main question that Michael kept asking himself was... How long before his family found out? He had to tell them the truth, but what if he had gave them the basic details? It wouldn't be secrecy. It could be very basic. Knowing previous events, secrecy within the DeSanta Family wouldn't bode well for anyone.

Sasha had to become the center of his attention. Her life was in his hands. This had changed the whole game in Michael's eyes. If Lester would tell Aldrick of Michael's rejected offer then Aldrick wouldn't blink twice at hiring another. This meant Michael needed to get a stash of his own and give preparation time with Sasha. Even if she knew how to handle a pistol.

Prep-work meant one thing: Equipment. Bullet-Proof Vests. Spare weapons. All that was necessary to fend off the first major encounter. Then from there Michael was sure that Tommy would take the reins. There was a high price on Sasha's head for those heirlooms. Their only problem wasn't the Vercetti Family.

It was Michael DeSanta himself.

Running through a mental checklist, Michael remember seeing an Ammu-Nation down on Morningwood Boulevard . No shooting range, but that would be a concern on another date. First he knew setting everything up and getting a layout of his surroundings was important. Michael needed to find a few hiding places in Sasha's Penthouse. The best way to plan for an ambush was to plan a better strategy against the opponent.

Driving down through Morningwood Boulevard Michael had no concern over his finances. Luckily Amanda wouldn't track those payments. It's not that he wanted to keep this a secret. He just needed time to process everything. With the help of Marcello's Bonus. This was just the first big step in personal home security.

Entering the Ammu-Nation, the owner had greeted him. "Hot damn a customer. I was starting to believe that America was dead, my friend. What can I help you find?"

"Hey. How's it going? I was possibility looking for something that suits my needs? Artillery that could be discreet and pack a punch."

"You can't be discreet and pack a punch. If you want to be effective."

"Then what do you personally recommend?"

"Well, my friend. If you're going to be dealing with the opposing enemy? Protection is just as important as firepower. Shotguns would be your best bet for damage. Close range preferred."

"That sounds about right. How about something that's more discreet? Maybe something you can quick draw?"

"Revolvers are always a classic. My honest opinion? Just as long as you don't buy a heavy pistol like your standard Desert Eagle then any pistol can be quick and discreet. It's all a matter of skill and talent. Unless you want something completely quiet... then the runner-up would be a Silenced .22 Pistol..." The owner's voice had faded as he observed his inventory. Searching through cabinets and glass displays.

As the owner had put various models on the counter, Michael was no stranger to the basic pistol and combat pistol. "Honestly I don't think extended clips are going to make me appear discreet. I need something I can keep on person."

"Then you're looking for the AP Standard Pistol. Not only would it clip through your opponent's armor should they have any, but it doubles it capacity of a single clip with several extra rounds. Otherwise it's the Stun Gun that gets the most attention for being discreet. Those would be your best bet."

Michael had swiped up the AP Pistol, cocking back the barrel and checking its sights. "If this was capable of being discreet... I'm assuming you can fit the barrel with a standard suppressor?"

"If you desired so, yes."

"Well that's one down. Care to share your shotguns with me?"

"Can't suppose to sell you a Musket?" The owner laughed at his own terrible joke. "Any Sawed-Off Shotgun can give you extra damage without much range. Assault Shotguns are more about handling crowds."

"Never hurts to have the upper advantage." Michael had briskly interrupted the owner. "I'll have that and your standard Pump-Action Shotgun if you have one available. I know those can be quite on the popular side."

"Sounds like a purchase, my friend. I appreciate your business!" The owner had commented. "For you how about I throw in a Stun Gun and a specially discounted melee weapon such as a Nightstick or a Knife? Something for Closed Quarters Combat?"

"The Nightstick should be the wiser choice. I'll be breaking in a few kneecaps if at all necessary."

Along with the purchases of a few Bullet-Proof Vests... Michael snatched himself up a few extra boxes of ammo. It was better to be ahead of the game. No matter what Aldrick might had in store for him. Packing his car and going over the mental checklist, he had again pulled out his phone to check and see if Sasha had texted.

Nothing.

There should have been a text from her by then. It was actually making Michael a little concerned. "Sasha. Are you there?" Hoping she would respond. Michael had even taken a moment to catch his breath before going about his own business.

"Just one more task." Michael reminded himself as he headed back towards Rockford Hills.

Michael had to head home. Even if the job he had been offered was completely disconnected. His family would be worried sick if he didn't at least deliver the half truth to comfort their stress. Someone would have to be home. Amanda needed to know not to worry if he hadn't been home everyday.

Though there had been great hesitation on Michael's end when trying to just give the basics. At least he was going to see his family. Pulling into his driveway, there was no car parked from Amanda. She wasn't home, but from second glace it seemed Tracey might. Parking in his garage, Michael strolled into his house where he had found Tracey watching Fame or Shame.

"Hey, Trace. Your mother home?"

"Hey, Pop. Nope. She's out shopping. As per usual." Michael was sure that Amanda was spending his money no doubt. Old habits die hard.

"How's work treating you? The family noticed that you haven't been home." Tracey mentioned.

"Yeah. Uh. I got a new ... unique business opportunity." Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck."Nothing too serious. Just someone seeking out my talents."

"Don't you mean your criminal ways? What are you planning? Another heist?"

"Nah. Nothing like that." Only if him and Tracey had been on the same wave length. He joined her on the couch. "Listen, Trace. I might be pretty scarce around the house. Let your mother know? Not like she would or not. Just relay the message to her?"

For once maybe Michael had got his wish, Tracey giving her dad undivided attention. She took notice of his distraught. Something had most certainly been off kilter with her dad. "Look, Daddy. You're great at what you do. I'm sure the majority of us would be alive without you. If you got a business opportunity. Then I'm sure you'll take any task asked of you head on."

"I can at least promise you that I'll stay safe." Michael had assured.

"Even if you promise. Mom is still going to totally freak out. We all know how much she'll stress if something dangerous takes place."

"Yeah. I know. I'll still call her frequently. I just don't care about what she might think about this opportunity."

"What makes it so important anyway?"

This actually got Michael to laugh. Anguish had taken hold. "How about if I figure it all out or am capable of processing ... I'll see if I can piece it all together and revisit that viewpoint with you?" He pulled his daughter close, kissing her forehead.

"Okay, Daddy." Tracey agreed. "I'll relay your message for mom."

"Thank you, Trace. I love you."

Tracey rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah. I love you too, Dad."

With that small pleasant exchanged, Michael left his living room and climbed his stairs to reach his bedroom at the end of the hallway. Having walked directly into his closet, he dug for a duffel bag. Most certainly having a spare laying around. He wasted little to not time gathering all his essentials. While in-between checking to see if Sasha had texted back.

Taking a moment, Michael had sent one last text. Knowing well he would return to the Diamond Casino in under an hour. "Hey I'm worried. You're not responding. I'll be there soon."

Sasha was the Vercetti Golden Child. Not through intentional means, but by association. To think none of this would be taking place if Lance didn't gift Sasha with The Marston Family's Precious Heirlooms. How could one place into words. Perhaps it was good timing that Amanda wasn't home. Rather keep it simple versus a babbling idiot.

There had been no excuse to expose Sasha to Amanda and explain how he magically got involved with the Vercetti Family. That's all it was after-all: Magical Thinking. Michael needed to do everything in his power to avoid their paths being crossed. At all costs. For the safety of everyone involved he needed to keep his family separate from this job until everything would calm itself. There had been enough stress. This was going to be extremely difficult.

Keeping watch until the coast was clear had Michael practically trot down the main stairs and cut through the middle section what connected the kitchen and the front entrance. Taking an extra second to assure his duffel bag was secure to meet his next primary objective. Michael heard his phone ring shortly after.

Picking it up without fail, Michael answered without looking at the number. "Sasha? Are you there? I'll be at the Penthouse shortly. I had to stop by home for a few essentials."

"That's greatly appreciated, Mr. DeSanta. However I think it's about time we had a moment to introduce each other." The voice on the other end being male.

Michael glanced at his phone. Another unknown number. How were these people calling him without getting his number from him personally? "Listen, pal. I've got a job opportunity with another employer. I'm not interested in another job currently."

"I certainly hope so, Mr. DeSanta. This is your employer speaking. I wish to speak on mutual terms and not let others speak for me. I think it's incredibly rude. I have more class than that."

Michael remained silent. The man on the other end was the legend himself.

Tommy Vercetti.


End file.
